The Harry Pearce Handbook
by r4ven3
Summary: An AU situation featuring the S9 team, but with the focus firmly on HR. Some romance, some team silliness, and a few other bits and pieces which took my fancy. Written quickly to honour the birthdays of three (past and present) writers in the fandom.


_**A/N : This one shot has been written as a gift to theoofoof, NatesDate and Sparky75, all of whom have birthdays during the first half of April.**_

* * *

"Where are they now?" Lucas asks, flopping down in a chair at the desk recently vacated by Ros, who has limped off to the loo.

"In Harry's office. If Ruth finds out there'll be tears before bedtime." Tariq's dark eyes flick between the closed blinds which block all vision from within Harry's office, and the clock on his monitor.

"Who in 2010 says `tears before bedtime'?" Beth asks, at the same time she focuses on the closed blinds.

"My nani," says Tariq innocently.

Beth rolls her eyes. "How long will it take, do you think?"

"It only takes me two minutes," Tariq replies.

"Not _that_. I mean, how long will it take for Ruth to get back from the Registry?"

"It takes me two minutes to get back from there. What did you think I meant?"

"She thought you meant -" begins Lucas.

"Analyst at two o'clock," Beth warns.

"Have I missed anything?" Ruth asks, her eyes moving between her three colleagues.

"You've missed Harry taking a very attractive woman into his office, and then closing the blinds. They've been in there now for eleven minutes and … forty-three seconds."

" _Tariq_."

"It's alright," Ruth says. "I know who's in the office with Harry."

"You do?" three voices say in unison.

"Anyone we know?" Dimitri, cheerful as ever, joins them.

"Keep up, Dimitri," Beth says scathingly. Since Dimitri had stood her up on their third date (later claiming that she'd said nine-thirty, and not seven-thirty) she has been noticeably arctic towards him.

"It's a woman. She looks like Harry's type," Tariq adds.

"And what is Harry's type?" Beth asks.

"You know … smartly dressed, nice hair, good legs."

"You looked at her _legs_?" Beth says, clearly scandalised. "She must be at least … _fifty_!"

"She's fifty-six," Ruth says quietly, "the same age as Harry. She's his ex-wife."

"How come he let her slip through his fingers?" Tariq asks of no-one in particular.

"We … shouldn't be talking about them like this," Ruth says, her aquamarine eyes moving from Beth to Tariq to Lucas and then to Dimitri. "They deserve some privacy."

"Why? Did somebody die?"

Beth frowns at Dimitri before turning to Ruth. "Do you know what's going on?" she asks.

"Not really, but Harry once told me that he and his ex only ever communicate when there's a problem with one of their children."

"Should we … do something? Take up a collection or something?" Dimitri suggests, and Beth glares at him.

"We're spies," Tariq says. "We could do a police and hospital search on Harry's kids."

"No!" This time Lucas is the voice of reason, although of late, he has not always been so reasonable. "Ruth's right. We should all get back to work, and let them be. If it's important, Harry will tell Ruth about it, and then she'll share that with us."

"Actually, I won't. What Harry tells me in confidence remains in confidence."

Just as Ruth finishes speaking, they hear Harry's office door opening, and the voices of Harry and his visitor, although they are unable to determine what is being said. The voices fall silent, and then Harry appears outside his office window. "Ruth?" he calls. "I need you."

"Gosh," Tariq mutters, "he doesn't waste any time. He has better stamina than me."

Ruth is already half way to Harry's office.

* * *

"I imagine they're all speculating about Jane," Harry says quietly, a smile turning his lips, as he points Ruth towards the sofa.

"They are. Tariq was timing you."

Harry purses his lips, before hitching his trouser legs and sitting beside Ruth on the sofa. "I should give them more to do," he says with a frown.

"Your team need to let their hair down occasionally, Harry … as do you."

He lifts his hand to pass it across his scalp. "I haven't enough hair to let down."

Ruth recognises that he is stalling, and that he has brought her into his inner sanctum for a reason, so she nods, but does not continue the theme. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes. You are free to say no to my request. You have no personal obligation towards me, but if you can free yourself from your duties for a few -" and then there is a sharp knock at the office door. " _Christ_ ," he says, getting up to stride to the door, mumbling something about Waterloo Station. " _Yes_?" he barks, as he opens the door.

Ros stands at the door. She has only been off crutches for two weeks, and she still walks with a limp, and stands favouring her right leg, since her left leg had been fractured in two places in the hotel bombing. She glances at Ruth, and then focuses on Harry. "I thought you might need me to take over the team for a while, since Lucas is meant to be in South London this afternoon."

Ruth watches Harry's shoulders relax, his whole body structure realigning itself. "Thank you, Ros. Yes. If you could be in charge of the team until … I get back. It should only be for today."

Ros nods and then leaves. Harry again closes the door, before returning to sit beside Ruth. He turns on the sofa to face her. "My son is in hospital," he says quietly, and Ruth can hear the hidden emotion in his voice. She detects his fear for his son. It is only then that she admits to herself how well she knows Harry – his moods, the way he stands or holds his head all conveys something about him, as does the tone of his voice, the vibration in his tone expressing the emotion he is keeping hidden. She knows it all, and she hadn't even been aware of having gathered such information.

She could write the Harry Pearce Handbook. She could divide it into chapters. There'd be a chapter on his eyes - how his eyes become hard when he is angry, how they almost float from his head when he is being kind or gentle; how they darken when he is afraid, and soften when he is being seductive. There'd be a chapter on his posture, beginning with his shoulders, and how they square when he takes on an opponent, or slump when he believes he's been defeated. And she'd have to devote a chapter to his chin. His chin has its own distinct personality. He leads with his chin, he argues with it, bullies others with it, and she has sometimes wondered how it would feel to nestle her head just beneath it.

"Ruth? Are you alright?"

Ruth nods vigorously. She has little control over her thoughts these days, but she _must_ control them, especially now that Harry needs her.

"My ex-wife suggests I visit my son in hospital, and I wondered would you … come with me. I know it's a lot to ask, but -"

"I have all that translating to do -"

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I shouldn't have -"

"But I'll accompany you .. if it would help."

Harry smiles a rare smile, and Ruth makes a mental note to devote a chapter to his smile. It would be a small chapter, but an important one. Harry's smile could coax the mermaids from the sea.

* * *

On the drive to the hospital Harry tells her about his son – the years during which father and son had been estranged, his son's drug and alcohol use, and then his sobriety, and his long struggle to remain sober.

"We've only just begun to speak to one another regularly," Harry tells her, keeping his eyes on the road, "and then he has this accident."

He still hasn't told her about why Graham is in hospital. She's been watching his hands, and the way they curve around the steering wheel. His hands require a chapter of their own. "So his hospitalisation isn't drug related?" she manages to say, forcing her eyes from his hands.

"No. Are you alright, Ruth? You seem a little .. distracted."

"Me? I'm fine."

They are stopped at a red light when Harry tells her about Graham's accident. Earlier that morning he'd been riding his motor cycle to work. "Jane hates his motor cycle, and now I have to agree with her." He'd been crossing an intersection on a green light, and a car approaching from the opposite direction turned in front of him, colliding with him, and knocking him off his bike. "He hit the bonnet of another car – which may have saved his life – and then he hit the road, and only came to rest when he hit the pole holding the traffic lights on the other side of the intersection. He has fractures in both legs, some internal injuries, and extensive bruising." His voice! How can there not be a chapter on Harry's voice? His voice has the power to conjure the dead from their graves. Well … maybe she's going a teensy bit over the top there. "He'll be in hospital for at least two weeks, and then he may need daily physiotherapy for some months."

Ruth surprises herself by reaching across and placing her palm on Harry's thigh. It is an intimate gesture, perhaps the most intimate they have shared, but on this occasion it feels right. She senses Harry turning to look at her before he again focuses on the road ahead.

* * *

Ruth is aware of someone entering the visitors' lounge. She looks up from her book and smiles, expecting to see Harry, but it is a smartly dressed, middle-aged woman.

"You must be Ruth," the woman says, holding out her hand for Ruth to shake. "I'm Jane … Graham's mother."

Ruth is surprised. Everything she's ever heard about ex-wives has been harsh. She had expected a shrill harpy from hell, but Jane is gentle, quiet, and a lift of one of her eyebrows tells Ruth that Harry's ex-wife has a sense of humour.

"Harry told me you were here," she continues. "I thought it best he spends some time alone with his son."

"How did you know my name?" Ruth asks, immediately recognising that she has asked a stupid question.

Jane smiles, turning in her chair a little to face Ruth. "Harry told me he'd brought you with him. I'm glad he has someone. He might seem like a tough nut, but he can be like marshmallow inside."

Should she add a chapter on Harry's marshmallowy insides? Perhaps not. "Do you have … a partner?" Another stupid question, but for different reasons.

"Not at the moment. I'm enjoying being single."

Ruth nods. She wants to add that she's also enjoying being single, but she doesn't wish to further complicate an already complicated situation. "And how is your son?"

"He's in a lot of pain. He'll be operated on in a few hours, and when I visited Harry earlier I asked could he be on deck until after Graham's operation. I hadn't expected him to … bring anyone."

It's not exactly a date, Ruth wants to say, but (wisely) doesn't. "I'm here to hold his hand. Harry's, that is."

"Harry's fortunate to have you. When Graham's better we must get together," Jane says calmly, while Ruth panics. Accompanying Harry to hospital is one thing, but a family meet and greet is a whole other ball game. "That would be … nice," she says, smiling.

When Jane stands it is in one smooth motion. Again she holds out her hand, and Ruth shakes it. "I hope we meet again soon," Jane says, before she glides to the door.

"I hope we do, too," Ruth says to Jane's departing back. She then wonders whether her Harry Pearce Handbook needs a chapter on elegant, smooth-talking ex-wives. Perhaps not.

* * *

While Graham's operation is in progress, Harry takes Ruth to the hospital cafeteria for a bite to eat. He appears distracted, which she knows is because he is worried about his son.

"He's in good hands, Harry," she says, watching him as he tucks into his chicken pie and chips.

"I'm not worried about him," he replies, "not now I've seen him. It's you I'm worried about."

" _Me_?"

"I've dragged you away from your work, just so that I don't have to face my family alone. I even told my ex-wife about you, and so she insisted she meet you. I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't be. I rather liked her."

Harry's eyes dart up to meet hers. "You did?"

"She was very … polite and respectful."

"Mmm. She behaves herself around people who don't know her. She assumed you were my girlfriend, and I'm afraid that I didn't correct her."

"That's alright, Harry, and I'm sorry you were unable to … bring your girlfriend today." Ruth is busily cutting her fish fillet, but she can feel Harry watching her. Perhaps the final chapter needs to be about the unspoken bond they have … the one where they each know what the other is thinking … when they are sad, or troubled, or -

"I don't have a girlfriend, as you well know, but if I did ..."

"She'd be just like me?" Bold as brass, me.

Very slowly, Harry shakes his head. "Not _like_ you, no." Ruth is finding that she quite enjoys being Harry's pretend girlfriend, although being his real girlfriend might be fun also. "Do I have to spell it out?" He has placed his eating utensils on his plate, and is gazing at her across the table.

"Yes. I'm afraid you do." She's determined to make him work for this. While observing him, she considers that not only do his eyes deserve a chapter of their own, but perhaps his lips do too.

Harry sighs heavily, before wiping his mouth with a paper serviette. He lifts his eyes to hers, and in them she reads apprehension. "Were I to have a girlfriend, Ruth, I am sure that you know as well as I do that she would have to not only be like you, she would have to _be_ you."

Ruth decides that the Handbook also requires a chapter on understanding Harry's speech. Every sigh, every grunt or mmm or hrumph or eye roll requires an accurate interpretation, and who better to translate Harry's language than a language expert? Perhaps that chapter can be called, `The Peculiar Language of Harry Pearce.'

Then it hits her as hard as the car which earlier that morning collided with Graham Pearce's motor cycle. Were something to ever happen to Harry … were he to be hurt or injured or, even worse, die, she would be inconsolable. She would be bereft, grief stricken, lost like a babe in the woods. How would she go on were her other half to suddenly leave her?

"Say something, Ruth," he prompts.

"I think that for once, you're right." She lifts her eyes to his to see he is smiling. She can't help but smile back.

* * *

Much later …

Beth opens the front door to the flat she shares with Ruth, and drags herself to the kitchen, where she opens the fridge door. She hadn't expected Ruth to be home. She half expects her to be spending the night with Harry. Who knows? She may never come home again.

Beth is sitting at the kitchen table, about to pour herself a glass of wine when her phone rings. She grabs it from on the table beside her. Bloody Dimitri. Why can't he take no for an answer? How can she possibly continue to date a man who can't turn up at the appointed time?

"What?" she answers.

"I've just seen something."

"It's the mirror, Dimitri. It reflects your image back to you."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Beth."

"I beg to differ."

"I've been out and about, and I happened to follow Harry's Range Rover."

" _Happened_ to?"

"Well ... I asked Tariq to trace it for me. I followed it all the way from the underground carpark of St Thomas's Hospital, and guess what I saw?"

"No idea."

"He had a passenger with him -"

"Ruth."

"Yes, Ruth. I followed them all the way to Jensen's -"

"The restaurant?"

"Yeah. When he parked, I parked on the street opposite. Harry helped Ruth out of the car, and then he kissed her – a proper snog – and then they walked into the restaurant holding hands."

"Is that the reason you rang?"

"Yeah. I thought you'd be pleased."

"I'm ecstatic. Is that all?"

"I'm not planning to stay until they leave. That'd be – like – stalking."

"It would, yes."

"I was thinking … given Harry and Ruth appear … cosy, that means you'll have the flat to yourself tonight, so .."

"I'll be turning in early, Dimitri -"

"I can be there in twenty minutes."

"I'll be turning in _alone_. Goodnight."

Beth ends the call. She knows now that Dimitri's understanding of relationships between the sexes is sketchy at best, and she's just not prepared to be the one to teach him the finer points.

* * *

"Would you like to order dessert?"

Ruth doesn't want to order anything more. She has everything she wants at the table with her. Since they'd finished their main course Harry has been holding her hand, and she could remain this way forever.

"Perhaps I should take you home."

Ruth nods. "To your house." Noting the surprise in his eyes she mentally files away the expression – another one for the Handbook. "This is our second date, Harry, so I think we're ready for .."

"More?" His face shines with hope, and joy and love. Perhaps the Handbook requires a whole separate section on Harry in love.

Ruth nods. "Shall we go?"

They step together into the cold night. When Ruth shivers she feels Harry slide his arm slide around her waist, drawing her close to his side.

Protective Harry. Ruth decides that not every facet of Harry should go in a book. There are some sides to Harry which she'll be keeping to herself.


End file.
